Old Granny Marlowe: The trouble with Chairman Mao is that he never experienced a truly splendid preserve.
Burt von Jam: You're not wrong there.
Old Granny Marlowe: Imagine how much nicer his book would have been if it had come with a thick layer of jam and a good dollop of clotted cream.
Burt von Jam: It couldn't be any old jam, mind. No apricot, for starters. He wouldn't have stood for any apricot.
Old Granny Marlowe: My thoughts remain free from even the merest whiff of apricot.
Burt von Jam: It would have to be a good vintage too, of course. Here you go ... this one dates all the way back to my student days on the streets of Paris. I call it Revolution in a Jar.
Old Granny Marlowe: What's it made of?
Burt von Jam: The juice of the people.
Old Granny Marlowe: How delightful!
Burt von Jam: Well, it's reserved for A-list despots now. If I tried to make any more these days they'd force me to use artificial people.
Old Granny Marlowe: Typical Brussels bureaucrats! How dare they dictate what goes into the vat of the honest English jam merchant.
Burt von Jam: I suppose the sometimes unfamiliar regulations brought on by economic harmonisation are the price you have to pay in return for lower barriers of entry to foreign markets.
Old Granny Marlowe: I didn't realise that Johnny Foreigner valued the apricot at breakfast time.
Burt von Jam: Oh yes, I sold fifteen million units in Latvia alone last year.